“It wasn’t enough,” Willow said, and her body trembled, but she stood.
Christian shadowed her.
She turned to him, and the tears in her eyes shone like diamonds. “I’d like to be alone,” she whispered.
His chest tightened. All he wanted to do was comfort and hold her. All he wanted to do was ease her pain. Yet the only thing he could do was nod and give her time.
She walked past Sage and Marcus and, in turn, Raven. Her fists were still tight, her body so tense that it seemed as if one gust of wind might shatter her into a thousand pieces.
Christian stared after her in sorrow as she disappeared into the dark line of trees.
Landyn emerged from the path. “Is everyone well? I heard a shout.”
Raven put a hand on his arm and shook her head.
Christian stared at the spot in the forest that had engulfed Willow. His heart ached with a sadness so deep and powerful that it felt as if it would tear him apart, and his eyes burned with despair.
“She did it,” Marcus reminded them. “She went into the water on her own.”
Christian whirled on him, furious. “A child is dead. That’s all that is important to her right now. Don’t you see? She’ll go on the damned ship. She’ll push aside any emotions she feels to live up to her family’s expectations. To be a Hawke. She is stronger than any of you.” Christian gritted his teeth and leaped off the rock. His strides were long and purposeful, and his eyes spat fire as he stormed back to their camp in disgust.
Willow hated the water. She had tried so hard to rescue that little girl, yet the water mocked her effort by taking the child’s life. She couldn’t defeat it. It was like a living monster, trying to warn her to fear it always. Exhausted, she plopped down in the middle of the meadow, her wet braid dripping onto the grass. Even though she was soaking wet, she didn’t feel cold. She was numb. The sadness consumed her, and tears fell over her cheeks. She didn’t even know the little girl’s name.
“Will?”
Sage came up behind her.
Willow quickly swiped at her cheeks. Her family must never know her weakness. She had to be strong, like the rest of them. “I said I wanted to be alone.” Her voice was thick, and she loathed the emotions she was showing.
“I know,” Sage said, sitting beside her. “But when have I ever done anything that you wanted me to?”
Willow looked away from Sage, careful not to make eye contact, aware that her sister would see the trembling of her lips and the misting of her eyes.
Sage sighed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”
“You?” Shocked, Willow turned to Sage. “I was the one who dove into the lake after her. I was the one who didn’t pull her out in time.”
“You gave her to me to save, and I couldn’t do it.”
Willow shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Just as it wasn’t yours.”
Willow bridled, and her mouth dropped open. She suddenly understood what Sage was attempting to do. Sage was taking the blame from her. Willow lowered her chin and shook her head again. “You don’t have to do that to make me feel less guilty.”
“Of course I do. You’re my sister.”
Willow clenched her lips tightly to keep the tears at bay. “If I had only reached her sooner. If I had only jumped into the lake quicker.”
“And if I had been more persistent. If I had known how to get the water from her body.” Sage bowed her head. “Father always said you can’t change the past. You know as well as I do that there’s no use wanting to change things that have already happened. The past is the past.”
Willow knew Sage was right, yet her heart still felt heavy and empty. “She was a child.”
“You did all you could for her,” Sage comforted.
“Not enough.”
“No. You can’t bring her back from the dead. But you leaped into that water—water you’re afraid of—to save her. You did everything you could and more.”
